


When the Time is Right

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-16
Updated: 2003-05-16
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:18:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: "I had always suspected that, given the unspoken desire, the sexual tension between us, even a simple kiss could be our undoing.  My theory was proven one night after yet another pointless stakeout was cancelled."





	When the Time is Right

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

When the Time is Right

## When the Time is Right

### by Laura Saliers

From: Subject: New Story: "When the Time is Right" by Laura Saliers Category: MSR, smut, though there is a bit of a plot... ;) Rating: NC-17  
Spoilers: Not really  
Summary: "I had always suspected that, given the unspoken desire, the sexual tension between us, even a simple kiss could be our undoing. My theory was proven one night after yet another pointless stakeout was cancelled..." Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be--but I do own the playground. Is it my fault they wanted to come and play? Archive: Sure, just let me know so I can check it out! Feedback: PLEASE!!!! Does that count as begging? Do you need me to beg? Let me know how I'm doing--I'll even read the flames! Anything remotely positive will be printed out and used to wallpaper my room! 

* * *

When the Time is Right  
Laura Anne Saliers  


We were sitting silently in the car when the call came in through Mulder's cell phone. 

"Stakeout's cancelled," he said, ending the call. 

I sighed. Yet another Saturday evening wasted, and for no good reason. "Did they say why?" I asked. 

"Suspect was apprehended in Richmond this evening." 

"Which explains why we're watching a barn outside Baltimore," I said ironically. I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze when I found him looking at me. 

It was a moment we found ourselves in far too often, a moment during which neither of us made any effort. It would be so easy to close that distance between the two of us, to make that move that would change everything for us. 

But we were always too afraid to try. Scared of changing the status quo, of being wrong, however impossible it might be, of the other's feelings. 

And so we remained in a sort of limbo, neither of us able to muster up the courage to take the next step, a step I think we both desperately wanted. 

The temptation was almost irresistible, and became stronger every time we found ourselves in this position. 

There was little I longed for more than to press my lips to his, but for reasons I couldn't name, I never did. I couldn't understand why I didn't do it, or why he didn't. 

It was becoming a distraction, a thought that was always on my mind. My fantasies were beginning to pop up at the most inopportune times. If something didn't change soon, I was going to lose my mind. 

It seemed to be a contest of wills, though it was a challenge neither of us really wanted to win. I just didn't see why we didn't race to claim the victory. 

And he was a victory I wanted to claim. And would claim, someday. When I managed to find the courage. 

That opportunity occurred with his next words. 

"Do you want to go out tonight?" he asked, his voice tight. 

I could tell the effort it took for him to ask me that, the risk he had taken. "Sure," I answered, trying to keep my voice normal while my heart was pounding. 

He put the car in gear, and pulled out onto the deserted road. 

"Where are we going?" I asked, after he was silent for a while. 

"I thought we'd go to one of the clubs in Addam's Morgan," he said. "Seems like neither of us gets out much anymore." 

I didn't need to tell him how long it had been since I had been out anywhere. Far too long, a fact he obviously had picked up on. 

My next question was purely female. "What do I wear?" 

He smiled, an expression I loved to see grace his face. "Whatever you want," he answered. "At the club I was thinking of, you can get away with anything from jeans to leather." 

Lust, heat, there were no other words for it, coursed through my veins, made my mouth water. The image my mind instantaneously created of him in leather had me dizzy for a second 

"You okay?" he asked after I was quiet for a moment. 

I nodded, nowhere near trusting my voice. 

"I'll drop you off, go change, and pick you up again," he decided. 

I nodded again, knowing it would take me awhile to get ready. I had no idea what I was going to wear to a trendy bar. My wardrobe was composed mainly of my sedate business suits and a few pairs of jeans. But I figured I would be able to find something, and if worse came to worst, I could always talk to Claire across the hall. A student at Georgetown, she was just my size, and would likely have something suitable. 

We rode to my Georgetown apartment in silence, as if we had used all of our courage in that earlier conversation. I, for one, was a bit afraid of what I might inadvertently say. 

"I'll call when I'm on my way," he said when he pulled up in front of my building. 

"Alright," I said, stepping out of the warm car into the chilly night air. 

I walked into my apartment, pulling off my clothes as I headed for the shower. Soon, I was standing in front of my closet wrapped in a towel, another wrapped turban-style around my hair. 

I debated the selection in front of me, without much optimism. Finally I sighed, and picked up the phone. 

"Claire, are you busy?" I asked when she picked up the phone. I was actually surprised she was home; unless she had a test or project due, she wasn't around much on the weekends. 

"Not really," she said. "Why, what's up?" 

"I'm going out tonight," I started before she interrupted. 

"Where to?" she wanted to know. 

"Addams Morgan," I answered. 

"Got it," she said, as if that explained everything. "Who are you going with?" she wanted to know. I guess the location didn't explain everything after all. 

"Mulder," I answered a little sheepishly. 

I could practically hear her grin over the phone. "That sexy partner of yours?" she asked. 

"That would be him," I agreed. I could hardly argue with her; I felt the same way. 

"I'll be over in ten minutes," she told me. 

When she opened my front door, I was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tanktop, drying my hair in the bathroom. "Come on in," I called. 

She came walking back, holding a shopping bag in one hand. "Ready?" she asked. "How much time do we have?" 

"Forty-five minutes," I estimated. 

"Perfect," she decided. 

We headed to my bedroom, where she proceeded to dump the contents of her bag onto the bed. 

"Do you have anything in mind?" she asked. 

"Not really," I shrugged. 

She probed further. "What effect are we going for? 'Hey, cute outfit,' or 'Damn, you look hot?'" 

I laughed. "I'm tired of this limbo," I confessed with a sigh. "Let's go with option two," I decided. "And see if we can't make something happen." 

* * *

Claire seemed to know exactly what I wanted; some feat, since I wasn't particularly sure what that was. 

I must have tried on eight different outfits, and she spent close to twenty minutes working on my hair. Makeup next, and she finally proclaimed me finished. 

Throughout this whole project, she never let me look in the mirror, so I had only a vague idea of how this might turn out. At last, she led me to the full-length mirror at the end of my hallway. 

"Claire, you're a genius," I decided once the initial shock wore off. 

* * *

Mulder had called about fifteen minutes prior to tell me he was on his way. Now, only moments before he was due to arrive, I was getting nervous. 

I was having doubts I didn't understand, about something I was so sure of. I didn't know why I would be apprehensive of something I was so certain I wanted. 

I thanked Claire as she was leaving; she didn't want to be there when Mulder arrived--she didn't want credit for my transformation. 

I heard a knock on my door as I was pacing across my living room floor. Even though I was expecting it, I still jumped. 

"Come in," I called, heading back into my bedroom. I told myself I was getting my purse and jacket, but I knew I was running. 

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped out of the room. 

He was looking intently at the books on my shelf, not paying attention to my entrance. I didn't mind, though; it gave me the chance to really look at him. 

While not leather, his black pants were tight, fitting close to his runner's physique, the tight body I often found my gaze drawn to. 

He was wearing a sleeveless deep green top that I knew without being able to see that it brought out his eyes. It fit him perfectly. Not skintight, a fact I almost mourned, but not loose enough to hide anything I wanted to see. 

His hair was tousled as always, the dark locks falling carelessly over his forehead. I wanted to walk over there, spin him around with a hand on his bare, muscled forearm, and brush those stubborn locks back. 

I didn't realize I was walking toward him until I saw him turn and look at me. 

His eyes met mine, and I saw his quick intake of breath, the widening of his eyes as he looked me over from head to toe. 

I watched as he took in the fiery curls Claire had styled my tresses into, the subtle yet dramatic makeup that made my eyes dark and large, my lips full, pouty, and inviting. I smiled as his gaze lingered on my mouth. 

Then he continued down, to the black shirt that hugged my curves, the wispy short sleeves that left my shoulders bare. His gaze lingered again on the low neckline the top boasted, the swell of my breasts visible above the top edge. 

The shirt made my waist look smaller where the shirt ended about an inch above my navel. He swallowed visibly as he saw the silver piercing there, an adornment I'd had for a couple months, but he had never seen. 

He took in the swell of my hips, accented by the hip-hugging jeans I wore. They were flared, in that dark blue color that doesn't last beyond a couple trips through the washer. 

Finally, his eyes rested on my shoes, high black heels, strappy sandals with straps winding up my calf below the wide legs of the jeans. The heels were close to four inches, a height that only made me look slimmer. They would take a little getting used to, but were certainly worth it. 

His eyes jumped back up to meet mine with a heat that had my breath catching in my throat. I walked toward him, holding his gaze with mine as I sauntered over on heels you simply had to give yourself over to if you wanted your ankles to survive the trip. 

The naked desire in his eyes matched the feeling coursing through my veins. In that moment, I had no interest whatsoever in going to the club. 

I wanted him right then, right there. And I let that knowledge fill my eyes as I closed the distance between us. 

My heart was pounding, my chest tight. This was more than lust, more than unresolved sexual tension, though both were powerful factors. No, what made this game even more dangerous was the fact our hearts were tied up in this, too. I was in love with him. And the instant he read that in my eyes, the second I freed those thoughts, let them show on my face, his expression softened. 

I stopped when our bodies were just a breath apart. I felt the heat radiating from his body, and knew he felt the same from mine. 

We were in forbidden territory now, uncharted regions. I found no reason not to continue on this path. 

"I love you." The words fell from my lips in a whisper, seeming like the most natural thing in the world to say right then. For a moment I wasn't sure if he would be able to hear my words over the furious beating of my heart. 

All of those nights I lay awake, alone in my bed, my hands caressing my body as I pretend, as I wish, his would, I would think of how I would tell him. As much as I dreamed to tell him what was in my heart, as many scenarios I imagined played out, it never happened. Either the perfect moment was over too soon, or I chickened out. 

Finally I stopped trying to force it, figuring it would happen when it was right, and when it was right, my fear wouldn't even be an issue. 

He lifted one hand slowly, as if unsure what to do with it. I held my own hands clenched at my sides, wanting to touch him, but needing him to make the next move. 

He brushed the pad of his thumb over my cheek, his touch feather light, hesitant. I turned into his caress, until he was delicately cupping the side of my face in his palm. His fingers brushed against my hair just before his voice brushed over my heart. "I love you, too," he whispered, his voice low, as mine had been, husky with emotion. 

I sighed, a release of breath he captured in a tender kiss, his lips touching gently to mine. 

The feel of his mouth brought such a rush of pleasure, a completeness all its own, I gasped, my mouth opening beneath his. 

The kiss went from tender to passionate as he accepted the unconscious invitation, deepening the kiss. His hand fisted in my hair, his other hand moving to rest possessively on my hip as he crushed his body against mine. 

I moved my hands to his hips, up the hard plane of his stomach, the contours of his chest before moving to his shoulders. There, I had a hold, an anchor to the world as his kiss sent me spiraling higher. 

My tongue mated with his in an ancient dance, and the feel of him, the taste of him after so many years of wanting, made me moan. 

I pressed my body closer to his, not wanting to let a molecule keep us apart. My hips brushed against him, and I could feel him, already hard, through his jeans. I sighed with the heady feeling of knowing he wanted me as much as I wanted him. 

He chose that moment to end the kiss, and while I was grateful for the much-needed air, I missed the contact instantly. He pulled me even closer, drawing me up to him as he kissed his way along my jaw line, across the sensitive skin just below, down to the pulse at my throat. 

I gasped as he found the spot at the curve on the side of my neck, when his hand threaded through my hair to cradle, to massage tiny circles at the back of my neck. 

I ran my hands through his hair, feeling it's soft thickness through my fingers. I pulled gently, bringing his face back up to mine for another searing kiss. 

My hands fisted in his shirt, seemingly my only grip on reality as he sent my senses reeling. 

He walked slowly to the wall, his lips never breaking contact with mine. When my back met that solid surface, when his chest, his body pressed against mine, I sighed, running my hand over his shoulders, down his chest. 

His hands ran down my sides, then circled back up to rest on my ribcage. I felt small, delicate, with his hands spanning my sides, his wide shoulders almost sheltering me. 

I jumped when his thumbs brushed softly across the underside of my breast, the touch teasingly light. 

I was drunk on his taste, intoxicated by the feel of his lips on mine. It was a sensation I wanted to live in forever. 

He hands moved upwards to cup my breasts, then he flicked his thumbs across the nipples, already hard peaks even through my bra and shirt. 

He kneaded my flesh gently, alternating that motion with another pass of his thumbs. Each touch sent a flash of heat, of pleasure, through my body, to my core. 

Trailing his hands down my body once again, he rested them on my hips, hesitating slightly. He broke the kiss then, and just looked at me, his gaze burning into my soul. 

Our breath, heavy with passion, mingled between us as we stared at each other. Desire, passion, and love filled his eyes, the most enchanting of emotional kaleidoscopes. 

His hands danced lower, and gasped in surprise when he moved his hands behind my thighs, lifting me off the ground. 

I laughed, having no choice but to lock my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck. I touched my forehead to his as he pressed me against the wall. 

Contact with that solidness settled him fully against me, and the feeling of him resting between my thighs was a perfection my dreams had never done justice to. I moaned at the heady thought that there were still barriers between us, and that what was to come was going to be even more spectacular. 

I loved the freedom of being able to touch him, the joy of knowing I could possess his body, the splendor of being sure I already ruled his heart. 

I kissed him again, replacing want with love, possession with tenderness. Where that first chaste kiss had been our undoing, this meeting of lips sealed our fate. 

When finally it ended, we were breathless. "I love you," he whispered again, and hearing those words brought a pleasant tightness to my heart. "I want to be with you. And not just tonight, but for every night." 

I felt my eyes fill with tears at the sweetness in his voice. I blinked them back quickly, not wanting to let them blur his face, only inches from my own. 

His promise of forever echoed the thoughts racing through my mind, my soul. "I want you," I whispered, my voice sounding desperate. "I need you, in a way I haven't even wanted to feel before you. And not just for tonight," I echoed his words. I smiled. "Though there is that. I want you for always." 

We kissed again, slowly, softly, until that gentle touch was no longer enough, and our kisses again turned urgent. 

He had me delightfully pinned to the wall by our lower bodies, and even as I rocked against him, it wasn't as much as I wanted. 

There was an ache in my body only he could fill, just as he had filled an empty place I didn't even know existed in my heart. I wanted to run my hands over his bare skin, and what I found on his shoulders was no longer enough. 

I wanted to feel his bare skin on mine, my fevered flesh against his. 

I ran my hands across his shoulders, over the smooth fabric, and down his chest to his waistband, so close to where our bodies rested against one another. I pulled his shirt up slowly, watching as I exposed his stomach, his chest. As his arms were partially responsible for keeping my midair position, it took a moment to free the shirt completely, but when I finally managed, I carelessly tossed it over his shoulder. 

I ran my hands over his skin, smiling a smile that could only be described as possessive. 

He had a thin layer of soft hair on his chest, just enough to tickle my fingertips as I explored what I had just uncovered. 

I brushed my thumbs over his nipples, feeling them tighten under my touch, feeling his escaping sigh on my neck. Pleased with the reaction I repeated it, until they were hard, tiny nubs beneath my hands. 

"Scully," he gasped, fighting for control. "If we don't stop soon--" he interrupted himself by kissing me again, his hands finding their way under my shirt, cupping my breasts once more, before divesting me of my top, throwing it to land with his on the floor somewhere behind him. 

Without the barrier of my shirt in the way, with only a thin layer of lace between my skin and his hands, I could feel the heat radiating from his palm. I moaned at the contact, losing track of all rational thought as he rubbed my nipples between his fingers, turning the already taut peaks into aching points. 

"I don't want you to stop," I gasped. "If you don't think we should..." my voice trailed off as he released the clasp of my bra and pushed the scrap of material away, his hands now covering my breasts with nothing in between. 

"I don't want to stop," he said. "I never want to stop loving you. I just want to make sure you want this as much as I do." 

I kissed him gently, taking his face in my hands. "I want you more than I want my next breath," I whispered before I captured his mouth again. 

"Scully." The way he sighed my name sounded like a prayer. The way he kissed me made things low in my body tighten, tightened my legs around him, brought him closer. But still not close enough. 

He pulled my bra straps down my shoulders almost painfully slowly, then bent to take my nipple in his mouth, laving the bud with the flat of his tongue. 

I was writhing in his arms now; in passion so intense I couldn't catch my breath. The burning in my veins, the press of his erection at my center was more than I could bear. "Bedroom," I whispered huskily. 

He moved his hand to support my legs, his thumbs tracing small circles on my thighs. 

I wound my arms around his shoulders, playing with the short hair at the back of his neck. It wasn't until he began carrying me down the hall that it finally set in that this was going to happen. That these dreams were going to come true, that he would finally, completely be mine. 

He set me down on the edge of the bed and bent over to kiss me again, bracing his hands on either side of me. 

When he ended that kiss, he knelt between my knees, undoing the straps of my shoes, sliding them from my feet, kissing the instep of each foot when he finished. He traced his hands up the outside of my legs, up to the waistband of my jeans, along the bare skin of my waist to the button in front. A flick of his wrist and the closure was open, another motion of his hand took care of the zipper. I heard his sharp intake of breath when he saw the scrap of black lace beneath. 

He looked up at me, watching my face as he hooked his thumbs under the back of both, coaxing me to stand as he pulled them both down, out of the way. I stepped out of the circle of clothing pooled at my feet, using his shoulders for balance. 

I looked down as his gaze traveled slowly up my body before his eyes met mine. And I was suddenly nervous, a little self-conscious. 

These were things I never felt around him, with him, and I was nearly as uncomfortable with the concept of the emotions as I was with the feelings themselves. I closed my eyes, breaking that link with him. 

I think he felt the moment I began closing him off, the first instant in years I was unsure of what I wanted from him. 

Passion still burned through every cell of my being, my body still ached for his with an intensity I couldn't ignore. 

I felt him stand in front of me, then his arms wrapped around me in the sweet embrace I needed at that moment. He kissed my hair, whispered words unintelligible that soothed my heart. 

As I relaxed, my hands found their way to his back, to the bare skin there that was hot to the touch. 

"I would never do anything to hurt you," he promised. "I love you," he whispered fervently, and repeated the endearment until I met his eyes again, and saw the truth gleaming in his eyes. 

It was the only Truth we needed; it was almost enough. Almost. I still needed him, needed to have his body fill me the way he already filled my soul. 

My inhibitions shattered with our next kiss, a kiss he was thorough about, a kiss he slowly deepened until I was trembling in his arms, pressed against his body like I wanted to come out the other side of him. 

He traced nonsensical patterns across my entire back, and I felt each caress like an electric shock. My skin jumped when he used that same maddeningly light touch across the swell beneath my breasts, as he traced foreign patterns across my stomach, over my hips, and farther down, to where my thighs met. I gasped when his hand caressed the heat there, and he swallowed my moan of pleasure with a kiss when his fingers found the tiny bud of sensitized flesh there. 

He proceeded to rob me of every rational thought I'd ever hoped to possess with his tender ministrations. I whimpered when he slid two of those talented fingers inside me, and he echoed when he found me hot, wet. For him, always for him. 

My knees went weak, rubbery and unwilling to hold me to the point I was clinging to his shoulders, relying on them for any illusion of support. 

He set me gently on the bed, and I missed his touch, and the fire it inspired, as we settled back from the edge. 

I reached over to open his jeans, and soon they joined mine somewhere, forgotten on the floor. Finally, I had him naked in front of me. Sure, I had seen the show before, but not in its full glory, and never when it was all for me. 

I took him in my hands, exploring his length, weight, and emanating heat. I ran my thumb from base to tip along the underside, pleased with the near whimper that produced, and the involuntary twitch I felt between my fingers. 

I kissed him, at the same time rubbing my thumb over the tip of him, spreading the bead of moisture I found there. 

He groaned my name against my lips before deepening the kiss, dueling with my tongue as he moved my hands from my prize. 

I broke away from his mouth, trailing little kisses across his cheek, down his jaw to his ear. I sucked the lobe into my mouth, running the tip of my tongue across the bit of flesh I held gently between my teeth. I trailed my tongue lightly over the delicate shell of his ear, feeling his quick sigh of breath on my neck. 

"I want you inside me," I whispered in his ear, sharing my secret. 

With a moan he flipped me onto my back, a predatory grin crossing his face. "Soon," came his whispered promise in my ear. 

He lingered over another kiss, before he began moving down my body, placing kisses randomly across my collarbone, the upper swell of be breast before his mouth settled again over my nipple, drawing it to his mouth. His hand coaxed my legs apart, his thumb finding that bundle of nerves again. 

My hips bucked at the contact before I relaxed into the onslaught of sensation he offered. Heat spread slowly through my veins, pleasure forming a tingling storm low in my body. I was moaning every breath I took, my hands fisted in the blankets beneath me as my only anchor. 

He switched breasts, grazing his teeth gently over the sensitized tissue. His assault at my center increased as he put more pressure into his caress. 

I felt the beginnings of something large and overwhelming as he pressed his fingers inside me. 

He moved to kiss me again, his tongue imitating the motions of his fingers. "I love you," he said again just as his thumb found my clit, thrusting against it, his fingers still inside. 

I wanted to tell him I loved him, wanted to say so much, but the only sounds I was capable of making were gasping breaths and a keening moan. 

He gentled his touch, bringing me back from the precarious edge I was hanging over. "Mulder," I managed to gasp. 

"Say it," he whispered gently. 

"I love you," I almost sobbed. He began again, instantly bringing me back to the edge. But I wasn't finished. "More than life," I continued as that warmth began to spread, as my control began to falter. "Forever," I gasped. "Always, you and no one else." 

With the last of my words he pushed me over the edge, wave after wave f pleasure coursing over me. My hips bucked, my back arched as I flew. 

When I could think again, when my surroundings finally mattered again, he was lying pressed up beside me, trailing fingers up and down my stomach. 

I rolled over and kissed him, running a hand through his hair while I propped myself up on my other elbow. In this position, his groin pressed against my naked thigh. Not quite where I wanted it, though. Even after an earth-shattering orgasm, I still needed him to feel the emptiness inside of me. 

I trailed my fingertips down his chest, taking him again in my hand. As I slowly caressed, up and down, a faint moan escaped his lips. 

I looked into his eyes, saw the passion burning within. I gently pushed him back, laying him on the bed beneath me. I began kissing my way down his chest, his stomach, beyond his navel, not missing an inch along my journey. I looked up to his face, so full of love, of wanting. 

With seduction in mind, I ran my tongue around his tip, before I slowly took him into my mouth, inch by perfect inch, never breaking contact with the deep brown orbs that were his eyes. I let my tongue dance, and watched as his eyes practically rolled into the back of his head. 

I learned all about him in that span of time, when I had him in my mouth. I learned what amount of suction made him moan, I learned how to move my tongue to have him writhing before me. 

Through all of this I kept my eyes locked on his face, memorizing the look of ecstasy I found there. His hands moved to thread in my hair, and where I normally hated when a man did that, here, I found I didn't mind. 

But his intent wasn't to anchor me in place, it was to signal me to stop, that, as I had expected, he was close. I had no problem finishing the project I had started, but he had other plans. 

"I want to be inside you," he told me, his voice rough. 

His words, his tone of voice made muscles long unused clench deliciously inside. 

He lay me back on the bed, bracing himself over me before delivering another kiss. He stoked the raging fire burning inside of me his hand moving between my legs again. His touch this time was gentle, compensating for flesh oversensitized from my release. 

He continued like that until I was reduced to a quivering mass of want, until his own desire made him tremble over me. 

"Please," I begged between kisses. "Please." The single word became my mantra, the only way I could communicate the urgency I felt to have him inside of me. 

After waiting so many years, after wanting for so many years, to have him this close, naked on top of me, his erection only inches too low, was torture. 

He removed his hand from between my thighs, then began teasing my opening with his swollen cock. I bucked my hips against him, trying to take him inside, nearly sobbing my pleas now. 

He braced his other hand beside me, and slipped the first inch inside. I raised my legs, wrapping them around his back, using that hold to pull him closer, in hopes of drawing him all the way in. 

And he let me. He slid into me quickly, all the way to the hilt, and we both gasped. 

I lost my breath at the feel of him inside of me, a combination of his size and the rush of emotion I felt. I was complete with him inside me, in a way I hadn't imagined possible. 

I opened eyes I couldn't recall closing, looking up at his face inches above mine. It was incredibly intimate, having him this close. He bent to kiss me, swallowing my gasp as the motion caused him to move inside me. I adjusted my legs behind him, tilting my hips to take him deeper, and it was his turn to gasp as the angle changed. 

"You're mine," I whispered, my voice a combination of possession and awe. 

"Forever and always," he agreed. 

And then he began to move. Slowly at first, his thrusts long and deep. I could feel him through my entire body, as if he was touching things he shouldn't have been able to reach. 

He unhooked my ankles from where they were locked behind him, gently pushing my knees back towards me, rising up on his own knees. 

When he began to move again, the angle was deeper, and every time he moved in or out, he rubbed glorious friction against a place inside of me I thought was only a myth. 

That telltale warmth began spreading through my body again, a heat I could feel in my toes, beginning to curl under the torrential rush of pleasure. 

I was gasping with every move he made now. I met every thrust he did, keeping him right where my body needed him most. 

I had never been able to come with a man inside of me, a fact of which was fairly sure he was unaware. A fact I was pretty confident he was about to change. 

"Come for me," he whispered gruffly, effort straining his voice. 

I was close to doing just that, reaching for stars just beyond my grasp. Another thrust and those stars surrounded me, light, beauty and perfection. Another thrust and I was flying, a near-scream torn from my throat as sensation poured over me, a wave more exquisite than any feeling I had ever known. I rode that wave for what seemed like an eternity, finally landing gently back in reality to find him still hard inside me. 

"You're beautiful," he whispered, bending to kiss me. 

"I love you," I gasped, normal breathing still an impossibility. 

He moved again, the tremors racking his body telling me he was close. I gripped him with internal muscles still clenching from my orgasm, and he was undone, his release causing him to convulse inside me, a motion that nearly sent me over the peak again. 

He lay beside me spent, and it was a long time before our breathing slowed and our body temperatures cooled. 

I pulled the quilt from where it was folded at the foot of the bed, covering us both with it. 

He was on his side, facing me. He lifted an arm in the air, making room for me against the curve of his body. "C'mere," he smiled. 

I smiled back, rolling over to fit against him. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. It felt so right, lying in the comfort of his arms. I fell asleep like that, listening to his soft breathing behind me. 

* * *

I woke the next morning, still wrapped in the cocoon of his embrace. I sighed, scooting back against him to feel the heat of him pressed against my entire body. An experimental wiggle had his morning erection prodding my lower back, and I smiled. 

I rolled over to face him, just in time to see his eyes flutter open. "Good morning, beautiful," I said, leaning over to claim my good morning kiss. 

"Did you sleep alright?" he asked. 

I smiled a satisfied smile. "Better than I have in years," I answered. 

He kissed me again, and I reveled in the ease, the fact I could do this whenever I wanted. I had claimed him as mine, and had been irrevocably claimed in return. I carried his brand on my heart, would carry him in my soul every step I took for the rest of my life. 

Soon comfort was replaced by passion, and our kiss turned hungry. Where my desire had been fed the night before, it awakened again, looking for another feast, sustenance that could only be found in him. 

He pressed me back against the bed, resting on top of me, a comforting weight. "There's something I've wanted to do forever," his whisper confessed. 

"What's that?" I asked. 

"You'll see," he promised, then proceeded to kiss agonizingly intricate trails across my body. "I want to taste every inch of you," he told me between kisses. "I want to find every place to make you moan." With that, he latched onto my nipple, eliciting just the response he was looking for as his tongue rasped over the peak. 

He continued down my body, finding places I never thought of as sensitive long the way. The spot my hip bone jutted against my skin, the line where torso became thigh. He found a point behind my knee where the thin skin beneath his mouth made me gasp. The instep of my foot, where I was just a little ticklish. 

He had me turn over, and worked his way up from my feet, stopping where it pleased him along the way. The small of my back, where his hand always seemed to gravitate, he showered with kisses. Up the center of my spine, my skin jumping with every brush of lips, of tongue. 

He traced with his tongue the ouboris tattooed on my on my shoulder blade, before moving to the sensitive flesh of my neck. 

When he finished and turned me back over, pressing his lips to mine, I was shaking, my skin feeling too large for my body, too much sensation for the nerves there. 

He moved lower, coaxing my legs apart before he settled between them, blowing cool air on the fire at my apex. He massaged the outside of my hips as he pressed the first tender kiss at my center, and I gasped in startled pleasure as his tongue joined the party, dancing across my core with deliberate determination. 

His tongue pushed its way into me, causing my hips to press to his face of their own volition, trying to get more of that sweet contact. Then he moved up a little, swirling his tongue around the tiny bud there, taking it between his lips, sucking hard in a way that made stars appear in front of my eyes. I swore right then and there I would never again complain about his sunflower seed obsession. Not if that oral fetish had anything to do with the amazing things he was doing to me now. 

He continued his sweet torment, bring me to the edge and back down, release just out of reach as he made love to me with his mouth. 

I was gasping for breath, nearly sobbing with each exhalation. I glanced down, meeting his eyes as he looked at me, never stopping what he was doing. It was intensely erotic, watching him watch me as he continued licking, sucking, filling me with a pleasure almost more intense than I could bear. 

I closed my eyes against the overwhelming euphoria he offered. 

And then he stopped. "Open your eyes," he whispered. "I want to watch you." 

I groaned at his words, struggling to keep my eyes open while he finished what he started. He kept suckling at the center of my desire, until I was writhing beneath his ministrations, and his hands on my hips weren't so much a part of the seduction as they were anchors, holding me to him. 

He grazed his teeth over the swollen nub, soothed it with a circle of his tongue, and repeated the process, occasionally altering the pattern by closing his lips around it, sucking gently. 

I felt like there was a flashfire radiating outward from his mouth, until I was engulfed in heat. And then I was flying, shuddering with the intensity of my climax, only vaguely aware of the continued lapping of his tongue, serving to prolong the tremors racking my body. 

He kissed me, and I couldn't remember him coming up to lie beside me. I tasted myself in his kiss, and rolled him over until I was on top of him. 

I broke the kiss to straddle him, my core pressed against the impressive erection lying against his abdomen. 

He cocked his head to one side, flashing that little-boy smile I had loved since the first time I saw it grace his features. "This is something else I've been wanting to do," he confessed. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I want to see you move above me." 

I raised myself up on my knees, positioning myself above him. I took him in my hands, feeling his smooth, hard length, wanting him inside me as if it was the first time again. The desire was so strong, it was if it had never been alleviated. I felt as if I would never get enough of him. 

I positioned him below me, and took him inside me in one swift motion. 

We both gasped at the sensation, a feeling so incredible I wondered if it could be real. But it was, and only got better when I began to move, back and forth, up and down, when he began meeting my motion with thrusts of his own. 

I bent to kiss him, and our tongues mated, mimicking the shallow thrusts this angle required of our lower bodies. 

I quickened my pace eventually, sitting back up to achieve a deeper angle as we both drove toward orgasm. 

I rode him until climax claimed us, all the more incredible with the knowledge we were coming together. 

I collapsed on top of him, the lingering tremors of my body milking his own release while he was still inside of me. 

We slept like that for awhile, me sprawled over him like a blanket, he still nested inside me. Where he belonged, mine. Where we belonged, our racing hearts beating as one. 

* * *

This time when I woke up, I decided I needed to stay that way, no matter how strong the temptation was to lie in his arms forever. He was still asleep, lost in dreams, when I moved to get out of bed. I rolled off of him, only to find his arm wrapped around my midsection, holding me close as if he'd never let me go. I smiled at the knowledge he wanted me there, even as I moved out of the circle of his arms. 

I showered quickly, and dressed in jeans and a v-neck shirt. I walked into the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker before surveying the contents of my refrigerator. 

I started cooking bacon and eggs, and was just scrambling the eggs when I heard him in the shower. I had barely put the bacon in the skillet when there was a knock at my door. 

When I pulled open the door, I wasn't surprised to find Claire standing there. 

"Good morning," she greeted me cheerily. So cheerily it reminded me I kept meaning to talk to her about switching to decaf. "So how was last night?" she wanted to know. 

"It was great," I smiled. What we had shared was too wonderful to trivialize by lying to Claire about it now. 

"What club did you end up going to?" she pressed, leaning up against my doorjamb. 

I wasn't going to invite her in, as unsure as I was of how long he would stay in the shower, or what state of undress he'd be in when he came out. 

"We didn't," I confessed a little sheepishly. 

She raised an eyebrow, a mirror of an expression I often used. Then her eyes widened as she heard the water shut off in the bathroom. Realization filled her feature, and she smiled. "Way to go, Dana," she told me, then turned to walk back down the hall. "Have fun," she said when she reached her door and walked inside me. 

"I plan to," I whispered. Then I walked into the bathroom, a billow of steam pouring out before I closed the door behind me. 

**________________________*THE END**   
  


#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Laura Saliers


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